How To Hope
by ifyouknew
Summary: The only thing that Draco can think of while dying is the moment that changed his life significantly. (DM/HG. Sort of AU.)


**A/N: **For _Prompts: Elimination Style! _by **paradox . bookjunkie** over at Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges. My prompt was hope.

Now, this was supposed to be up days ago, but I didn't have access to my computer. I'm going to go and cherish my time with it now. Forever is a long time, but I wouldn't mind spending it by your side, buddy. (Did I just propose to my laptop? With a He Is We lyric?)

Please, tell me if it's extremely corny/cheesy. I really want to improve and I need criticism for that.

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**Draco was dying.** He was pretty sure that they would all die, only the loyal Death Eaters would be free to do as they please, and every Muggle and Muggle-born alive would be tortured and killed. Yet, he fought for the Light Side. He thought that if he had to die, he'd die by her side. _Granger's _side.

But, unfortunately, it didn't go that way.

He was aware of how childish he sounded when he said it wasn't fair, but he didn't care. She was what made him hope and fight and live. She was the only alive person he had in this world. And then, she had to go and die, all because of the person who was torturing him this very moment. Bellatrix Lestrange, his so-called aunt Bella.

He felt like it was some sort of joke the universe played on him. What horrible thing had he done to have her taken away? _Oh. Right. Just the Dark Mark carved on his left arm._ Just looking at it made him want to vomit. What his father craved wasn't necessarily what he wanted. What sixteen-year-old wanted to be a Death Eater, really? The black ink meant nothing but giving your soul to a heartless creature who called himself a name people wouldn't dare speak of. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, You-Know-Who, meaningless shit like that. Voldemort. What kind of name was Voldemort? Why were people so afraid of saying it?

He knew he was being a hypocrite. He couldn't say it either. His tongue stuck in his mouth like he had put a piece of spell-o-tape on it whenever he tried to say it. He always stuttered on the V — on the _V_! He couldn't even say the second letter! It was pathetic.

He knew she thought he was a coward; no matter how many times she denied it, he _knew _it. Getting tongue-tied over a name wasn't fit for a brave little Gryffindor like her, like _him_—Potter. Potter always said it loud and clear — _Voldemort, _as easy as saying _perfect_. Well, in everyone's eyes, _perfect _was pronounced like _Potter_. Because he was, really. Saviour Potter was perfect. As such, the fact that she chose _him _made him swell with pride.

But were his dying thoughts really going to be about Potter? There were more important people, more important things. Like Granger, and the four-lettered word that changed their lives in ways he could have never thought of.

And that word was _hope_.

_"What do you mean, you don't __**hope**__, Malfoy?" Granger asked, tilting her head slightly to the right. They had developed a friendship over the year, and whenever he needed to vent his frustrations out, she was there and vice versa. Though, she didn't vent a lot. She left that to him, but always made up for it by wanting every possible explanation. He didn't care, really; more reasons to keep talking to her. She was surprisingly fascinating, and he found himself completely drawn to her._

_"I don't hope," he said simply. "I don't find it necessary."_

_"But if you don't hope, how are you going to get through this?" She seemed genuinely confused, an expression he rarely saw on her._

_"I just fight and save my arse. I don't hope that we'll win. I just fight, and whatever goes out of it." He shrugged, not fully comprehending why it seemed so strange to her._

_"But hope... It's what you keeps you sane. Pessimists don't make it out of here."_

_"I don't, and I'm perfectly sane."_

_"But it's easy, and it helps. A lot," she continued, sitting down on one of the chairs. "I can show you."_

_He chuckled. "Show me how to hope?" Just __**how **__important was hope? Certainly not important enough for her to need show him._

_"Yes."_

_She seemed very persistent about the whole matter, so, out of pure curiosity, he decided to see what she had to say. Pure curiosity, mind you. Nothing else._

_"So...?"_

_"Close your eyes." He did as she told him._

_"M-hm."_

_"Think of something you want to happen. Winning the war, for example." Oh, he was intrigued. She sounded so eager._

_"Alright..." An image of a family suddenly popped up in his mind: two blonde kids, a man that reminded him of himself, but slightly older, and a woman whose face he couldn't quite recognise, but seemed __**very **__familiar. They looked happy and loving and careless. A feeling struck his chest, a mix between happiness and longing. Happiness because that was him, and longing because there was no chance it could actually happen._

_"Let the thought consume you, fill you up. Wholeheartedly believe that it is going to happen. Don't let anything bring you down. Keep that image in your mind, safely tucked somewhere in there as a reminder that it will exist someday. It's your future. And it is happening." Damn, Granger was deep. _

_He wanted a life like that, someone to spend the rest of his life with. He wanted to live carelessly. He wanted the Dark Lord not to be a problem anymore._

_And he wanted Granger._

_He couldn't deny it, not really. She was clever and attractive and she wasn't prejudiced against him and why __**would **__he deny it in the first place, since she was so fascinating and... and... His thoughts were getting terribly messy._

_He opened his eyes, his gaze immediately averting to her. Silver met brown for a brief moment before she attempted to lower her head. She decided against it, her eyes settling on some part of his face._

_"You have an eyelash... right here." She pointed to his left cheek, just a centimetre under his eye. "I'll get it." He nodded. Her hand moved to the stray eyelash, and she went to remove her hand at the proximity between them. He caught it just before she did, placing it back on his face. It was really a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, so why not cherish it?_

_"Don't," he breathed, the words he meant to use after that suddenly going missing from the tip of his tongue. Her face went from pale to pink impossibly fast, and she let out a shaky breath._

_It was a random thought, but he realised her nose had freckles spluttered across them. He found them quite... cute? Possibly._

_"Just trust me," he said. It wasn't long after that his lips were on hers, kissing her with such force that he had to make sure that they didn't tumble over. Guaranteed, her lips were chapped. Also guaranteed, his lips weren't cotton-like either. But who the sodding hell cared? She made a sound on the back of her throat that resembled a gasp, but not quite, and then she buried her hands in his hair as his own trailed over her curves, memorising her blindly_. _His thirteen-year-old self would have vomited at the thought of kissing Granger and touching her like he was now. Just __**how **__could he have been that stupid?_

_She tasted of apples and cherries and he'd have to tell her that she had to stop eating so much fruit because she was making him dizzy with her taste and her smell and her attractiveness and... Yes, his thoughts were definitely getting messy. All Granger's fault._

_It was a moment he would never forget, a moment that would never be replaced._

_A moment that was over when she pulled back with her eyes widened. "We won't do that again."_

_But it didn't matter, because she liked contradicting herself._

It was the last thing he could remember. All his other memories seemed to have fainted, leaving this one as a reminder that his life wasn't a lie.

And as he lay there, on the ground, half-dead by the curses his own blood had cast on him, he could only smile. Mentally, at least. He found that he couldn't even flex his fingers, probably the effect of another curse.

He hoped he'd see her again. What was it called, reunited by death? Yes.

_I'm on my way, Granger. Keep your hair under control._

Oh, if there was an after-life, she'd be so pissed over that comment.

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**A/N: **How do you guys like it? Some feedback would definitely be welcome! Also, if there are any typos, feel free to tell me so I can go and edit them.

I'd like to make it clear that I've never written physical romance before and that thing at the flashback was probably so bad that you wanted to break my fingers. Was it toxic?

*hands out Draco plushies* All my love,

—Marianna


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